We're All Mad Here
by Kento-hish17
Summary: Follow the story of ENVI-25. He suffers as he is studied. Is he an unfortunate cursed human, or simply a monster that is a means to an end? Why are these men in coats doing these things to him? Did he do something to anger them? Who is he? Where is he? Why is he?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey guys. This is a new side-story I'm doing. It isn't in any anime and has nothing to do with my other stories. I hope you don't ignore it because it's not part of my other stories or isn't even anime related. I just hope you like it.

"Hey"- talking

'Hey'- thinking

"**Hey"**- crazed yelling or computer speaking

Let's go

A scientist walked down a corridor, carrying a clipboard and reading its contents. He had a face of disinterest as he read reports on murders, rapes, mass suicides, but when he reached one particular report, his mouth twitched ever so slightly into an evil smirk.

ENVI-25

He made a left in the corridor and made his way to a special holding cell. It was a large room, completely blank of any color and lights in the ceiling shining brightly. All the way in the corner, sat a huddled figure.

This person seemed to be a teenager, by their proportions. The wide shoulders and strong arms signified male. He wore a dark purple short sleeve button-up shirt and, though it was hidden from his new audience of the scientist, it was left open to show his pale chest. He had a mop of spiky white hair on his head and chains around his ankles and wrists. He appeared to be trembling. When he suddenly froze and turned to face the scientist, somehow seeing him through the one way mirror, the scientist saw his heterochromatic eyes, the left green and the right red.

The scientist merely smirked and walked over to what appeared to be a thermostat and turned it up to 110 degrees. The temperature within the corridor did not change. Rather, the change was in the room with the man.

After 10 minutes, the man was sweating profusely. He removed his shirt and tried to lie down to relieve himself of the heat. It didn't work. After another 5 minutes, the scientist raised the temperature another 25 degrees. Disturbingly, he ignored the silent pleas of the man inside the room to lower the temperature. He merely watched as the person suffered the heat. He was waiting for something to happen.

After another 5 minutes of suffering in the heat, when a normal human would have started showing the signs of hyperthermia, the man within the room actually seemed to calm down and stopped sweating. The odd part was that his skin took a burnt orange hue and his pupils dilated and stretched into slits, like a lizard. His nails grew into claws much like an iguana has and the scientist could see definite difference between the 'normal' skin, and what appeared to be scales forming.

As they were, the changing man writhed in pain and curled up into a ball on the floor. He started whispering, in too much pain to yell out.

"Stop the needles… They're stabbing out my skin. It hurts… Why does it hurt?" He said.

The scientist ignored his pleas that were amplified by an intercom system programmed to hone in on this persons voice for all observing to hear. He watched as the man suffered until every bit of skin was now scales, keeping the burnt orange hue but here and there, there was green discoloration among the scales.

Once the change stopped, the man started showing signs of suffering from the heat again. He panted from his mouth, as the scales trapped in the sweat. Bulges appeared down the sides of his forearms and down his spine. What appeared to spines folded out of the bulges as webs of skin connected them, tearing through the back of his shirt as he grew a tail that grew flaps like the ones mentioned. He fell on all fours and resembled an ancient species of dinosaur that had these frills on their backs to disperse body heat to cool themselves off. While he didn't suffer from the heat now, he suffered physically as the spines down his back were skewering his spinal cord. It was a mystery and miracle that he could even stand, or crouch as it were. And the scientist stood, watching, smirking to himself.

"A success." He said simply.

The man-lizard within crawled around and made his way to the window and dragged his claws on the glass, like a starved puppy asking to be fed. But he made no cute quiet whimper, he made a growling sound. It sounded more threatening. Like he was ordering the man to fix this. His claws slowly made gouges in the glass. The scientist stepped back just a bit. But apparently this… thing, sensed his fear, and took initiative. It started clawing at the glass with renew fervor. Within 2 seconds, it slammed through, skewering the scientist with glass shards and its claws.

"**You… caused… this…" **The creature grunted out then seemed to hiss like a crocodile as it pulled its claws out of the man's chest and sliced his head off, activating a silent alarm that alerted the security of the facility that a subject has escaped and killed. He stalked down the hall then snapped its head to the side, hearing footsteps and guns being loaded. Instead of running away in fear, the creature smirked. It then turned around and started running towards the sounds. It came to an intersection, the other 3 ways blocked by armed security as they took aim and fired. The creature proved fast for its size, as it dodged the bullets and climbed across the nearby wall a bit and fell on a guard, slicing into his head. It then threw off 2 other guards that tried to hold it down to be shot. It roared a terrifying roar, a primal screech crossed with an imprisoned man screaming for mercy.

Within an hour, the creature had found refuge within another wing of the facility.

As you travel down a scarred hallway, blood and bodies strewn about like such trash, you see clawed footprints in the ground going down the hall slowly reverting back to human footprints in blood. Behind a broken door, hanging on one hinge, was the man from before, huddled in the farthest corner from the door, the most blood within the room and on his hands and body and even his face. He was scared. He wrote 'HELP' in the excess blood from his primal kills on the wall beside him. He didn't understand what he was, who he was, or _why _he was. He just was. And he was afraid.

End Ch. 1

Well there we go. This is the story of another OC of mine. He is unrelated to any anime and as such, I couldn't think of anywhere to fit him in. So, he gets his own story. Hope you liked it.

Ja ne.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here's the second chapter of the story no one cares about! :D

"Hey"- talking

'Hey'- thinking

"**Hey"**- crazed yelling or computer speaking

Let's go

After the incident with ENVI-125, the scientists of the facility had managed to shoot him with a tranquilizer and built his new cell around his prone form, cleaning the blood and removing the body parts and filling in the gouges from his primal transformation's claws.

The room became an exact replica of the one he was in before. He awoke to find himself within the same room before the nightmare, where he become some orange thing and hurt the science-men. He sighed in relief when he saw that everything was the same, believing the events that transpired were merely a dream.

He didn't know a lot. The files on his case said the scientists 'liberated' him from a back alley when he was approximately 3 years of age, huddling against the dying body of a woman; probably his mother. She was dying of stab wounds to the abdomen. When the child cried himself to sleep, they struck, taking him from his 'home.' They soon began the tests; tasked with creating some serum for environmental adaptations for daredevils that would journey through dangerous environments; the blistering deserts, the freezing and air constricted mountains, the bottomless seas, and so much more. But soon, some odd agency caught wind of these actions, and took action. Their task was changed, becoming something every government strived for: a biological weapon. A weapon that could adapt to wherever it was. This man was that weapon. Of course, he was still in the testing phases, but he showed promise.

Due to his 'sheltered' life, he didn't know the difference between humans and animals, didn't know the terms for the simplest of things, didn't even know his name. He was an enigma to himself; he did not know who he was, or rather, _what _he was. He just wanted the things to stop. He had no name; he didn't even know what a name was. But the scientists gave him one: Shade.

A proper name for one shrouded in mystery about themselves, their past, and their future.

A government official from the agency that started these horrific tests was visiting today, and he wanted to see how the subject was doing. The scientists aimed to please, so they readied the room for the demonstration.

They would not know of the horror they will unleash.

"Show me the subject." The official ordered.

Complying, the scientist accompanying him pressed a button on the wall, raising the metal blast cover to the window to look within. They saw Shade sleeping on his bed, no blanket, no pillow, just a mattress. He seemed more dead than sleeping. His chest didn't rise, there was no snoring, and he didn't even twitch.

Sensing he was being watched again, the subject arose, surprising a part of the general that thought he was actually dead. He could see the life in his eyes, or rather, lack thereof. He had been broken long ago, and had given up. But a side of him would fight back. He would use these tests to break out. Just like in that nightmare.

"Show me extreme heat." The general ordered.

Complying, the scientist accompanying him turned to the thermostat on the wall and cranked it up as high as he could, about 900 degrees. No human would survive that. Then again, Shade wasn't human anymore. He was more… or less. Even the scientists didn't know. Point is, the show was about to start.

Shade went about the same process as last time, though of course rather quicker, given the much higher temperature. When he started to suffer from the heat again in his sort of 'adapting' form, he felt something in him snap, and stood stock still.

His scales slowly shed off his body, littering the ground. The tail and frills all fell off him, leaving unblemished, yet reddened skin.

His skin seemed to stay red, a much darker shade than when he was a sort of lizard. He also seemed to be becoming incredibly dense, if the cracks in the ground around his feet and the barely noticeable descent he was undergoing as his feet sunk at most an inch into the floor.

"AAAAAAAAAA**AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!**" He started screaming, holding his head as his scream deepened and became a roar, like that of a demon. His white hair bristled and started sweeping back, yet keeping its spikes, and turning a combination of orange, red, and black hues. His face seemed to darken as the skin seemed to turn into molten rock, as cracks spread across his face, his eyes seeming to melt into their sockets as they glowed blindingly bright, like fire. His mouth grew silent, still gaping in a non-existent scream. His teeth grew, fusing with his lips, until he had a jack-o'-lantern grin. His jaw unhinged and corrected itself, giving him a larger jaw, like a monster. From his temples grew horns, curving over the top of his head and curving upward at the end. His neck craned out, lengthening and stretching the rock-like skin. His back bulged, ripping his shirt, and each vertebrae in his spine were bumps against his skin, as the bone burst through and turned to a harder rock material, creating a ridged spine down his back, as more bones burst out and turned to rock; his shoulder blades and ribcage, creating armor on his shoulders and wrapping around his ribs to center on a point between his pectorals. The rock-bone thickened until it covered a majority of his body, like armor, and the skin underneath seemed to glow and melt but keep within the shape of his body, the point at which the ribs centered around showing a spiraling storm of burning lights and lava churning.

The apex of his shoulders seemed to suddenly collapse, as if a gravity well were present at them, and formed small craters on his shoulders. Rather than make a squish or crunch from sudden blood collapsing or bones crunching, it made a sound as if rocks were being dragged. Then the strangest thing occurred: the epicenter of the craters bled, not blood, but lava. He seemed to have developed mini-volcanoes on his body. The lava oozed down his biceps, and drained into his forearms, which were the same as his face, charred rock and cracked like molten slabs. His fingers grew into claws, shining like freshly melted steel in his biological light from the lava. Finally, the bones in his arms broke through the surface towards his elbows, becoming rock and forming more small volcanoes at the apex. The lava drained into the arms much like those on the shoulders.

His legs seemed to be changing as well, thickening to the strength of a horse's hind legs, but keeping the human-like frontwards knee. The skin underwent the same change, molten slabs and cracks of lava. His feet became claws, much like his hands. Tearing through the knees of his pants, the rock-bone formed more min-volcanoes on his body. The lava overflowing from it burnt the lower pant legs, showing his calves and shins. Finishing his transformation, a tail of rock-bone shot out from the base of his spine, catching fire. He was not Shade; he was not ENVI-125. He was a weapon, and he would be aimed.

The general stood shocked and awed at what he saw before him; a demon of the fire that would destroy all it came across. He smirked evilly, thinking of how to explain this to his superior to get the most shock out of him. "Excellent work, Doctor. You have performed high above my expectations. But I must ask, how do you expect to control such a beast? Surely, he will not listen to mere orders."

"I have already thought of that. Watch." He replied, turning to the beast as it neared the window with intent to escape. He pressed a button on the wall, and the entire room was flooded with electricity, making the beast roar out in pain. It backed away from the window, where the electricity stopped its punishment. "Electrical signals will control the beast. Simple as that, general." He added, smirking.

"Incredible. Let's see what it can do." The general ordered, smirking as well.

Nodding, the scientist pressed another switch and the sections of wall farthest from the window lifted up, showing a large testing room. Instead of being motivated with electric shocks, Shade merely walked into the space with a child-like curiosity. He looked around, finding nothing but the blank walls, ceiling, and floor of the room, and watched as everything within view shimmered as if it were distorted by heat. He watched as the blank white room became a vast, endless desert.

"The beauties of virtual reality, general." The scientist commented smugly. The general merely grunted a reply, silently ordering him to continue the test. Complying, the scientist typed into the computer, as the test began.

Shade was a man trapped in a beast's body and his own mind. He did not know why things were happening, why he felt so hot, yet it didn't bother him, or why he was this, this… _thing_. He was afraid of what he was, but knew he couldn't do anything about it. He resigned himself to his fate as a monster for entertainment. His intelligence was questionable; he either did not know the difference between humans or animals, or he possibly knew more than the scientists. It came in waves to and fro.

Due to the work of the scientist, solid holograms appeared before Shade. They were of the guards that hurt Shade in the past. On instinct, Shade growled, finding the faces familiar, and hated them.

It leapt forward, intent on hurting those who hurt him. He kept some sort of semblance and consciousness in this new form, and controlled the basic parts of his body. His claws and teeth shredded skin, the excess lava dripping off his arms and melting parts of their bodies. Curiously, he hunched over –more so than the transformation already granted him- and his ridged spine extended its spikes, and he leapt into the air, curling into a ball, and spinning, shredding more 'guards' with a technique like something you'd see in a videogame. He landed, his spines retracting, and he seemed to have realized he controlled the very element of fire, and turned around, facing the guards that just kept coming.

The beast pointed its clawed hands towards its enemies, the lava immediately propelling itself forward, piercing their chests and snaking across their bodies like a python, melting as much flesh as they can. Suddenly, they drained into their victims chests, hiding within their bodies. Shortly after, the bodies exploded, showering those nearby in lava, killing them as well.

Smirking, or at least some equivalent to the act with its odd face, the beast turned around, facing an army of guards, all poised to shoot. Growling lowly, it lunged, grabbing the two nearest victims, piercing their chests with its claws. Following up, the creature willed its claws to grow, much like newly formed land does when lava is rapidly cooled, and impaled more guards through its current victims. Swiping its claws, the lengthened weapons of its body sliced through more, spreading blood across the ground. Dropping the first two bodies, the creature dropped on all fours, preparing for a more instinctual assault. It struck, pouncing on another guard, rending flesh with its teeth and claws. It broke bones with a mere swing of its large arms, snapping necks with quick flicks of its jaw around a guard's neck. It skewered more with its tail, burning their innards with its fiery shroud. It soon dropped to all fours again, exerting its power into the ground. Quickly, cracks formed in the ground, glowing with rising lava. Soon, spouts of the burning liquid shot up, quickly decimating the rest of the crowd. The beast stood, content with its work. The bodies, or what was left of them, as well as any spilt blood, on the ground or on the beasts body, all dispersed with a crackle, as their soli-grams ceased programming.

It heard the buzz and crackle of something else forming behind it. Turning, the beast stiffened, seeing what was before it.

It was the entire facility in which he suffered; tests, torture, abuse, all manner of horrors, was before him, and his power gave him an opportunity to destroy it.

Instinctually, the beast stabbed its claws within the ground, burying them up to the wrists. As it poured its power into the ground, cracks connected his hands on the ground. Then, cracks soon branched out. Soon enough, a huge crack formed a circle around the _entire _facility, at least 5 square miles.

Suddenly growling, the beast seemed to be trying the lift the entire slab of earth it somewhat cut off from the 'world.' The scientist and general chuckled at the beast's simple-mindedness; no way could it be this strong. But it would be amusing to watch it try.

Surprisingly, the ground began to rumble, and the cracks the beast made widened. Soon, it started lifting the slab it made. Slowly, it was holding essentially the entire facility as well as some odd tons supporting it right above his head, though with obvious difficulty. Tactfully, as tactful as a supposed mindless beast could be, it fumbled with the slab, now holding it upside down, some less-than-secure parts falling into what is now shown to be a bottomless abyss, as it seems the earth underneath the slab it lifted fell away by some unknown force, and it _threw _the slab, building and all, into the pit. Not stopping at that, it slammed its fists into the ground, and roared at the top of whatever form of lungs it has, and the ground rumbled. Then it roared; then the ground screamed. Quickly, a huge raging inferno shot into the sky from the gaping hole in the ground where the building was thrown, reaching far beyond the clouds. The beast cloud with an ominous light as it seemed to cheer at the destruction it caused, surely relishing in the lives, real or not, it has destroyed; a small bit of revenge for the life they ruined.

The scientist and general were silent in awe, and a tad bit of fear. The creature they jeered that wouldn't be strong enough to do what it surely just did proved them wrong. And, they realized, if they were within that building, they would surely not survive. They have created a weapon that, if turned on them, could surely eradicate them from existence.

Hastily, the scientist bolted to the shock switches, turning the electricity up as high as he could; they could not allow this beast to retaliate, not now.

The beast roared, almost as loud as when it delivered its finishing blow, and fidgeted horrible in place. Scarily enough, it fought the pain, and slowly stalked through the electric storm towards the viewing window, scaring the observers even more.

"Alert! All security to viewing center F! I repeat, ALL SECURITY TO VIEWING CENTER F!" The scientist yelled into an intercom, terrified beyond belief as the beast neared, unhindered by the pain he was surely dishing out.

The beast now stood before the window, fidgeting from the electricity coursing through its body. With the angle its head was at, its gaping maw looked like a sick grin, as if Shade had complete control over his actions, and would _destroy _them. Raising its claw and rearing back, it easily pierced the window, already shoving its hand into the general's chest, killing him instantly. Its sick grin seemed to widen as it felt the familiar feeling of blood boiling and evaporating off its molten skin. It dragged its claws upwards, bisecting the general through his torso and skull, letting him fall.

The scientist watched in horror as the man beside him fell to a ruthless death, his blood splattering against his lab coat, face, and glasses. "ALL SECURITY TO VIEWING CENTE-!" The man was cut off from his repeated call for help by a claw piercing his skull, the beast now climbing through the window that was slowly melting. It quickly flexed its hand open, shredding the head off its shoulders. The lava from its body fell on the terminal, destroying it, and reverting the room to its normal state.

If it dared to look back, it would have seen a gaping, burnt hole in the center of the room and splatters of blood all over the walls, though no bodies were around.

The beast stalked down the hallways, its footprints melting into the floors. Due to the cool temperature from the A/C within the corridors, the beast began to pant, then slow, then fall. The creature was weakening. In a last ditch effort to prolong its existence, it let lava rage out all the volcanoes on its body, bathing it in the liquid fire. Feeling slightly replenished, the beast resumed its trek through the facility.

It turned a corner, and the last thing it saw was about 50 guards in fireproof outfits, all holding military-grade hoses, and aiming at it.

End Ch. 2

So, what did you think? We got a view of his fire form, and backstory! :D Now, for those who are confused, his adaptations are in two stages: the actually 'adapting' phase, and a sort of 'becoming' phase. Instead of adapting _against _the environment, he will adapt so he will thrive, of course to an extreme. I hope you liked the design of this form. Now, for those who actually care for this series, besides his adaptations, the main uh, shtick, I guess, will be complete and utter madness. His mind is shattered, his spirit broken, his body a shell. Not all chapters will show him being tested for his adaptations; the next, in fact, will focus on him _psychologically_. Hope you look forward to it. And yeah, this stories chapters will probably be longer than the other's.

Ja ne.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Yeah, two chapters in one night! :D You love me, come on I know you do, come on gimme a hug. I felt inspired to pop out the next chapter earlier. This chapter will give us further insight into the mind of Shade, and how he see's our world, as well as a tad more in-depth to his back story. Enjoy.

"Hey"- talking

_'Hey'_- thinking

**"Hey"**- Crazed yelling or computer speaking

Let's begin

Shade lay asleep in his cell, the third new one this week already. The last thing he remembered was becoming some ugly thing, being very hot, but it didn't bother him, and hurting another science man, as well as the man in black with a weird symbol on his chest. Then running away until he saw a bunch of men holding tubes at him.

Thinking back, he realized it was the same symbol as the one imprinted over his heart; a sort of 7 shape with 2 blade-like dashes in the excess space. He remembered the day it was put on him; it burned... a lot.

He suddenly started convulsing, grasping his head, his mouth open in a silent scream as his mind was flooded by... things.

He saw a small boy with brown hair and green eyes, probably no older than 2, smiling and giggling in the arms of a pretty woman. She had brown hair also, though long and smooth, and hazel eyes. She smiled as she kissed his head and walked along the sidewalk. It appeared to be around 6 or 7 o'clock. The neighborhood they were in didn't seem that bad; actually, it seemed like what one could speculate as 'rich country.' Nice houses, nicer people, cleans roads, no trash, it seemed really nice.

Then someone snuck up on the woman. They dragged her into an alley nearby; she screamed for them to let her go, and for help when they refused. The child cried and hid in his mother's bosom, not understanding what was happening.

One of the men demanded she give him her purse. She nodded shakily and threw her purse to him then proceeded to try to run, only for one of the man's 'friends' to grab her by the arm to keep her from leaving. The first man, the leader she supposed, checked the purse, and scowled. He was angry; she didn't have money in there, only makeup and business stuff. He threw her purse to the ground and slapped her across the face. She cried, but did not cry out, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of knowing she was hurt. While she was down, she managed to put her child on the floor, and begged him to run, to find daddy and get help, that she would be okay.

The child nodded, barely understanding her, and proceeded to crawl away. When he heard his mother scream, he looked back. Even as a child, he knew he shouldn't have.

The men were stabbing his mother in her stomach, chest, and legs. She bled until her yellow sundress was stained red. When she screamed and thrashed no more, they stepped back, admiring their handiwork. Chuckling to themselves, one of them suddenly fell, a hole in his left temple. Before the others could question what happened, they fell as well.

Men in odd armor with night-vision goggles ran into the alley, blocking both sides, and a man in a lab coat walked in. Pulling out a syringe and injecting the child, he picked up the crying and blood-stained boy, now sleeping a dreamless sleep. Due to his somewhat rough actions in doing so, a bracelet fell off the childs wrist, stained with his mother's blood. It had a heart on it, engraved 'Love Mama and Daddy.'

The man in the coat and the others disappeared with the child, doing nothing about the boy's mother, even though they saw the whole thing and did nothing.

A week later, a man was found dead among the bodies. ID showed him to be her husband. He had committed suicide finding her dead body and his childs bracelet, the blood leading him to believing their little family was dead. The killers of the woman were found among them though _their _murderers were left unknown. Friends of the family attended the funeral; tears were shed and speeches were given.

'Here lies Amanda and Jacob Fousten.

Wife and Husband,

Mother and Father,

Dear friends.

They lost a child.

Young Alex.

They will be missed, and they will be loved.'

The vision stopped; Shade lay panting in his bed, eyes wide open in shock. He broke out in a cold sweat, and soon tears fell, though he didn't know it until he felt his own face. He realized something...

"My name... is Alex Fousten. And I'm dead." He whispered to himself.

Not a second later, he broke down, sobbing quietly as his mind raced at what could have been, what life he could have had, if only they weren't in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He convulsed again, more visions flooding his mind.

He stood in the woods, eating grass, his hooves padding softly as he was at peace. Suddenly he heard something, and his head shot up, fuzzy ears perked in caution. His antlers stood proud on his head. Slowly, he returned to his grazing. Suddenly he heard a sound, felt a small prick in his hide, and slowly fell on to the opposite side, his vision swimming. He saw the same man in a white coat, another syringe in his hand, and an odd bag in his other. He felt another prick, and his right hind leg went numb. Even though it was numb, he could still feel what happened next; something cold and sharp stabbed him, and dragged down his leg. He couldn't call out for his herd to come to his aid; only writhe his head in pain. The worse was yet to come; he felt some more cold things dig into his body and pull something out; no, not pull, _tear, rip, take_. After it was done, his leg felt... empty. He felt several more tiny pricks, and his leg was closed, but still felt empty. The man stood up, and simply left.

Shade, or rather Alex, tried to stand, but his right thigh felt like jelly, and he fell again. He tried to walk, especially when he heard more rustling; he thought the man had come to take something else, but he was wrong. Looking back, he wishes it _was _the man. A feral growl emanated from the bush, and he saw feline eyes staring him down.

A puma in the forest.

Several visions had the same events, some were worse, some were better, but all ended in his death. The same man, every damn time, kept taking things from him, yet as he was he felt whole. In fact, he felt more than whole, like he had too much. Or like he had things that didn't belong to him.

He was broken out of his musings by a voice. It wasn't the voice of the science-man, or of the mean pushy people who brought him to the science-men, or of the hole in the wall. It was his _own _voice. But it didn't come from his mouth; it came from behind him. Turning around, he saw himself, but _not _himself.

It was his body from the first vision; although he didn't know it, the body was that of a deer. Fully grown, strong, a leader. But it's right hind leg was torn open, upon closer inspection, the bone in its thigh was missing, signs of it being torn out. The most disturbing part was its face; it wasn't that of a deer in suffering, no, it was the face of _him _suffering. His face was on the deer's body, silently begging for death.

As it begged, blood formed on Alex's right thigh, staining his pants. It kept happening, his face appearing on the heads of different animals, and with them, another invisible wound on his real body, its blood staining his clothes.

An eagle missing its right wing, blood on Alex's right shoulder; a gorilla bleeding profusely from its left forearm, Alex sharing the same thing; a crocodile with a dislocated jaw, it's lower jaw appearing to have been torn out from its chin, blood forming around Alex's mouth and chin; all having Alex's face, begging for sweet death. It continued until he was covered with blood from head to toe, holding his head and screaming, but no sound escaped. Within his head, all he heard was the cries of the animals, all roaring above each other.

Among the chaos of his mind, something calmed him; he felt the embrace of his mother. Looking behind himself, he saw nothing, but the feeling stayed. He let more tears fall, realizing he was now truly alone in this place.

Within the reflection of the blood on the ground, he saw it; that damnable smirk, those shining lenses, that white hair. The science-man did this; the science-man killed him once, and took... _things _from him, killing him again and again. He kept dying, but he _would not die._

While he contemplated what he was, or who he was, the door to his room opened; a pushy man was there. He has to go now; the science-man was asking for him.

Someday, he'll find the one who started this, and make him pay. He will make him suffer just as he did for all these years.

End Ch. 3

Yeah, it's a pretty short chapter compared to the last one, but like I said, it would give us insight on what goes on inside his little world. Just think of it as something of half a filler chapter; short with no action, but still imperative to the plot. Now you see just how fucked up it is :D

Ja ne!


	4. Notice

Real quick update here. Due to recent events that have jogged my memory about this story and Shade, the name will be changed.

This story is now called We're All Mad Here.

Also, while Shade will be the main character we will follow, there will of course be different experiments, as the next chapter will show you.

Sorry if you got your hopes up for a new chapter, but don't worry, I am writing it right now so expect it either later tonight or sometime tomorrow.

Ja ne!


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm sure you're a bit confused by the name change, but in the coming chapters, everything will be made clear soon enough.

"Hey"- talking

'Hey'- thinking

"**Hey"**- crazed yelling or computer speaking

Let's go

While Shade, or Alex, even he didn't know, was being carted away by the guards for his next test, he was being watched. As was the guard. And the scientist waiting for him. Even the one watching them was watching himself.

Within a secluded section of the facility, a man sat within a bubble; a bubble of monitors, all showing video of every single camera within the facility. He sat upon an indent in a stainless steel orb with the entire bottom half a giant red lens. His entire upper torso and upper arms were covered in armor of the same metal, as was the top half of his head, all with large red lenses, like a spider's eyes, and he had a metal covering over his mouth, his eyes hidden by whatever amount of hair was sticking out the bottom of his helmet, as well as sort of braids sticking out of sparse openings between the lenses.

All around him in a complete sphere were monitors, showing him every inch of the facility to his damnable unblinking stare. He was I-C-750. The scientists gave him a name as well: Spider. For the lenses on his head and his backpack that folded out appendages much like the arachnid. Underneath his primary lenses, his eyes could see through all the lenses on his body, their red, quadri-pupiled gaze unflinching.

He sat still, although his fingers twitched now and then. As he watched the guards everywhere, he muttered to himself. Some nonsense about not seeing someplace in the facility, even though both he and the head scientist knew his camera's were absolutely everywhere, his paranoia said otherwise.

Suddenly, he stiffened, like a scare deer. He quickly snapped around, looking at all the monitor's directly, as if looking for something.

His screens suddenly go static, an action that unnerves him to a horrible extent, as he had a secret fear of not seeing everything, for if he didn't see it happen, he didn't understand it, and he feared that which he didn't understand. His screens, still static, showed a large vertical eye staring him down.

He started breathing fast, his heart hemorrhaging, but a fluid that is automatically injected into his bloodstream for just this situation activated, slowing his heart, but doing nothing for his fear.

The eye started on a single screen in front of him, then it spread. Five, thirteen, twenty-one, until the damnable stares were all around him.

He shook, then he broke into a cold sweat, then he screamed. He used his sharpened gloves to claw out the lenses on his helmet and armor, shattering them; if he couldn't see them, he couldn't be afraid, for even if he shut his eyes, the feed from all the other lenses flooded his mind.

When his actions filed down his gloves until they couldn't destroy the ones over his eyes, he resorted to taking out the monitors. He stabbed the ones to his left and right. Continuing, he used his backpack's limbs to aid him.

Soon, his gloves broke, and his backpack powered down, another mechanism to keep him from hurting himself, or impeding his work.

There was still that first monitor, staring at him, unaffected by its 'comrade's demise's.'

Finally snapping, he grabbed a hold of the monitor, and reared his head back. He brought his head forward, slamming it against the monitor, cracking it, and his helmet lenses just slightly. Repeating his action, he slowly caved in the screen and shattered his lenses, so his red eyes shown through, his eight pupils within only two eyes dilated so they were no more than black dots. He didn't stop slamming his head on the monitor, wanting to make sure the eye stopped looking at him.

By the time he stopped, his helmet smashed open, his forehead caked in his own blood, he slowly fell unconscious, slumping back into his chair.

As his blood dripped down into the shattered monitors below him, the screen shards crackled, and the static returned, as did the eyes on the small pieces.

As he slept, more visions drowned his mind; but not of his cameras, of... something else.

His vision showed narrowed eyesight, a cross in it. As he thought it over, he realized he was looking in a scopes' crosshairs. They lined up with a man's head, a small thunder-clap sounded, the vision jerked, and the man's head was caked in blood, a hole through his frontal lobe, killing him instantly.

Lower his apparent sniper rifle, he noticed the crosshairs didn't disappear, only shrink to the edges of his eyes, and he saw the sniper rifle was actually a modified single-action AK-47... without a scope.

"I missed." The man he saw through uttered in a slightly grating deep voice.

"How'd you miss, Jackie?" A dark-skinned man asked, flanking the apparent Jackie about five inches to his right. "You hit the guy right in the brain. Dropped like a stone." He commented.

"I was aiming for the brain steam." Jackie replied, standing up from the huddled group around him.

"I swear, Jackie, you are anal about this job. And this weird 'see everywhere' complex you have is just creepy." A light-skinned man with a blonde military buzzcut commented as he stood with Jackie, as well as the dark-skinned man, Cole, and the only female among the group, Janie, a beautiful brunette, whose beauty hides a deadliness none of her teammates dare tackle, although Jackie was the center of her secret attention.

"What can I say? I wanna know what happens around me." He replied, holstering his gun on the small of his back. As he stood, his long brown hair, kept in sharp braids but still showing no scalp, overshadowed his left eye, as he glared down at his victim.

"Come on Jackie, the boss is waiting to here we completed another mission... again." Janie commented, patting him on his shoulder, her hand lingering just a bit longer than usual, as they all turned around to see what appeared to be more guards of the target surrounding them against the edge of the roof.

"Well fucknuggets, it seems we are cornered. What ever shall we do, boys?" Janie commented, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She merely smirked when they all aimed at her team.

"Race ya down." Jackie commented and, at the dare of his friends and his own secret desire, he smacked her on the ass, and hastily jumped over the edge of the building, joined by his snickering friends and one red leader.

Free-falling, he whipped out his gun and, without even aiming, he shot at a joined section of pipes, the constructs swinging down and opening the hidden safety net to them, as they all landed safely, Janie of course landing right on Jackie.

She then proceeded to punch him in the jaw, eliciting a slightly loud crack and her other teammates busting out laughing, only to be silenced by a death glare of feminine righteousness.

Jackie only snickered as he spit a tad of blood to the side. "Let's go princess." He commented, as he looked past her, seeing the guards on the roof looking over the edge and start raining bullets. He smacked her ass again and flipped her off of him and the net, her instincts having her land on her feet, only to look pass her embarrassment and aim upwards, shooting at their tailers. Cole and the then-unnamed Joshua aiding her as Jackie flipped out as well and shot upwards without looking, blatantly showing off.

"Lets go guys. and remember, watch my 6... and 3... and 9..." He said, adding the last two on awkwardly, as was his want.

When he didn't hear grunts of acknowledgment, or even the fire of his chasers, he slowed down, expecting one of his teammates to yell at him to keep going.

No such thing happened.

He turned around, immediately wishing he hadn't, and saw his teammates... dead. All shot, but not by the assailants, for they were dead too.

He was soon surrounded by odd soldiers in gear from a division he was unfamiliar with, and watched as the front of the group parted for a scientist to walk through. "Explain yourself, Doc. Did you order these men to kill my squad?" He yelled, seething as he already knew the answer. His reply was just the scientist smirking and chuckling as he pulled out a syringe.

When he was about to retaliate with his weapon, he found his movement impeded by soldiers holding his arms back and his legs down. He struggled, only for the scientist to close the distance, and inject the syringe into his neck. He vision swam, then darkened, and he struggled no more. He slackened in the grip of the soldiers.

"Bring him back to the facility. If he wants to see everyone, lets help him." The scientist ordered with a smirk, as his soldiers listened, dragging the man to the facility he found himself in now.

Spider, or Jackie, as he was now, started to stir, but something kept him asleep. His visions changed to those of his life as it was now, but before he had his cameras and armor.

He sat in his cell, bandages wrapped around his eyes. His door opened, and the same scientist, even though he didn't know it, walked in, smirking that damnable smile from the beginning. "Would you like to leave this cell?" He asked all too sweetly.

Without hesitating, Spider nodded; he wanted so bad to escape.

"I'll make you a deal: You can leave this cell if you become our eyes and ears. My guards can't see everything, but you can. Will you agree?" he asked, already knowing the answer, as he was a manipulative man. His smirk grew when Spider nodded again. "Come with me..." He offered his hand, helping Spider up.

His visions changed to when he was outfitted with the armor and lenses, the technology letting him see everywhere in the facility. But as he watched, he felt the eyes of something staring back at him.

He started putting cameras in pointless places, multiple in the same room, unnecessarily more than needed for individual things. He became paranoid. He had sold his imprisonment in a cell for imprisonment in this bubble of monitors.

Tears fell from his eyes, as he realized something: he was never free. And that damnable scientist fucked up his life, the white-haired man's life, Shade he believed, and so many other's lives. He would continue his work here, but he would bide his time...

End Ch. 4

So, what did you think? Introduction to a new character, equally as insane! :D Isn't that nice? Review and PM me on what you think.

Ja ne!


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey everyone! :D Yeah, don't think I forgot about this story! I still have plenty of ideas for this story and at least one more character to show that will be involved in this whole mess. I just wanna say one thing:

Disclaimer: I do not own Dead Man Wonderland. If you say I copied from it, I will ignore you, delete your review/PM, and get on with my life. I created this character long before I even heard of the thing, so it's coincedence. Now get off my back!

"Hey"- human speech

_'Hey'_- human thought

**"Hey"**- computer/mutation form speech

Oh, as a sidenote, for those people who keep asking about the pairings in my Naruto crossovers (seriously people, there's more to a story than just what ass Naruto is after), for Kistune of the Spirit, I have changed the CRA requirement to 6 and have already chosen them, and no none of them are Hinata, one shall be an OC because I don't know of a character in Naruto that would match up with it. As for Kitsune with the Devil's Blood, I have no idea, since it _must _be a harem.

Let's begin

As Alex was thrown back into his cell, his body fatigued from the days experiments, he vaguely wondered what life would be like outside these walls, away from all this pain and suffering. They had tested him in an underwater environment today; his skin became light blue scales and he grew gills and webbed claws on his hands, and his hair turned blue for some reason. When he started to scratch at the windows, they shocked him and drained the room, his body reverting to normal.

While they were carrying his body to his cell, he notice some people in cages, their floors covered in blood but he could see no injuries on them, unless you counted the man who had no skin on his arms, his red muscles shown to the world.

He wondered where all that blood came from...

**(Another part of the Facility)**

"There goes Shade again..." A man in a lavender outfit the exact same as said man wore, only it was buttoned closed, his blood-red hair fall down his neck and over his eyes as he sat in the corner of his cage, his right hand propped up on his bent leg as the other was flat against the ground, as if he were lounging amongst friends.

"Poor kid... Think of the things they've done to him..." Another man said, in the cage adjacent to the first man. He was the man Alex noticed, the man with no skin on his arms. He had a messy mop of brown hair on his head, his hazel eyes staring forward, tired. He sat in his own corner, his body limp as if he were dead, only to be fatigued perpetually from the experiments done to him.

"He'll get out one of these days... And he'll kill everyone to do it." A third man said, his voice slightly muffled and rasping through the black skin suit he wore, not a single inch of his body shown, as he wore the same clothes as the first two men.

"You're crazy, Briggs. No one gets out of here. He'll die like the rest of us, hopefully not as bad as Jake did, though..." He said, thumbing over his shoulder to an empty cage with blood splattered everyone, a 'FAILURE' sign on the door to it.

"He was messy..." Briggs commented, the second man, Rusk, nodding in agreement.

Before any more conversation could be had, a pair of guards came up to the first man's cage, opening the door to escort him to his testing room. "No need, boys; I gave up fighting a long time ago. Lead the way." The man said, following the guards without fighting to escape, his will to do so broken long ago.

"Nice to see you again, Hemolag." a voice on the intercom greeted.

"My name is Joshua, you fucking ghoul. And don't get friendly with me, just start your tests!" he snapped. Unlike other victims in this facility, Joshua managed to retain his memories of his old life while his will shattered.

He was just an honest Joe, or rather Josh, in need of some quick cash, being between jobs. He was looking through the Want Ads in the paper, when he spotted a small 'For Hiring' panel for government testing of a new drug. He didn't find this odd, since this kind of thing was somewhat normal; the government shells out big bucks for some poor monkey to test on, some new drug that could cure cancer or some other bull. Realizing how desperate he was, he wrote down the address and went to the facility the next day. When the testing started, his fate was sealed.

They had been testing on the human capabilities to control their own blood, for military purposes should a soldier be without ammo to his weapon. Just a small cut and presto! Instant weapon. It sounded like some shit he read on some online manga, a habit he fell into one Sunday afternoon when he was bored beyond reason. Since then, they had tested him almost every day for the limits of this ability. He befriended the other test subjects, Briggs and Rusk, who were earlier versions of him, the final product. Briggs' entire body lost its skin, a single step flooding his body in pain. So, the scientists gave him a special suit that acted as a new skin for him. His control over blood was mediocre, the puddles of the life liquid haphazardly spiking into the air, then falling as the liquid again. He couldn't consciously control when they spiked and how far, they acted on their own.

Rusk was a step further in the experiments, but not good enough to their standards. The skin on his arms were torn, for 'easier access' to his capabilities. What a crock of shit, they only did it to torture the poor man. His control was slightly better, he could make vague weapons from his blood, but they only lasted at most ten seconds, and they hurt like a bitch.

Joshua, however, was the perfected product. None of his skin needed to be taken away, his use didn't damage him like a double-edged sword, and he could control it on a whim. They only kept him there to see what else they can do, and to isolate the gene that makes him perfect. He was an average man, not too heavy, not too light, average health; he was _average_. The soldiers they would use this on were built, stronger, faster, smarter, all around better. They couldn't isolate the 'average' gene that made him so special. So they tested, and tested, and tested, trying desperately to find what made him so damn special.

He cracked his knuckles as the testing began, targets popping up all over the far side of the room, his reflexes tested time and again so he reacted without hesitation, a cut forming in his palms as a solid orb of blood shot out his hands, piercing the target like a small cannonball. He continued until the targets stopped, then he readied himself for the reaction time of close quarters combat, the cuts on his palms healing almost immediately and cuts forming on top of his wrists, blades of blood shooting out to about three feet beyond his hands.

He snapped around, swinging his weapon at a target that popped up behind him, a cutout of a stereotypical terrorist, turban, robes, hidden face, dynamite strapped to his body. _'Geez, these guys are racist.' _He continued his dance of death, dicing up the cutouts as if they were nothing. At the least second, he stayed his blade as he stared down the cutout of a small girl.

As he straightened himself, knowing this test was over, he stared the cutout down. As he watched, it slowly changed. Her small chubby face taking more of a heart shape, her short, cutely-messy blonde locks turning black and lengthening down her shoulders, her blue eyes turning a forest green, her blue overalls over a white shirt turning into a yellow sundress with flowers, and started moving.

_'Daddy! Come play with me!' She pulled on his hand as she skipped through the field of flowers, her mother chuckling as the grown man was dragged about by his little girl._

_'Okay, okay, just let go of my hand, you're gonna tear it off!' The man joked, laughing as the little girl flexed her little arms, being the 'strongman.'_

_Both the adults just laughed and captured her in a conjoined hug, her shrieking laughter bringing smiles to their faces._

_'I love you Melanie...' He said to the little girl._

_'I love you too, daddy.' The girl said back._

_'Mommy loves you too, daddy.' The woman joked, capturing the man in a kiss as she reciprocated the action, drawing another adorable face from the girl._

_'Eeeeew! Yucky!' She pouted and tried to squirm free, the adults chuckling and snuggling with her as they sat on the picnic blanket and watched the clouds._

He broke down, his hands falling to the cutout of the little blonde girls shoulders, tears held back for years suddenly spilling out. "My little girl... My beautiful wife... they're both gone forever... I'll never see them again..." He whispered to himself in sorrow.

"Get up." A guard muttered as he nudged Joshua's shoulder with his gun.

Joshua suddenly went still. He just barely turned his head so his shadowed face was looking at the guard. "What?" he whispered, but the guard heard him.

"I said get u-!" The guard was interrupted as a blade of blood shot through his body, bisecting his heart and killing him instantly.

"**I heard you...**" Joshua whispered, his voice distorted with sorrow and anger as he stood up and turned around, the spike of blood staying in place as it slid through his skin, keeping the guard in the same place in the air. "**I just wasn't sure I heard you correctly.**" He finished. He turned to the second guard. "**Do you have something to say?**" he asked.

The guard merely raised his gun and shot straight for his brain and heart. The bullets merely bounced off once they broke through the skin and hit blood and the skin immediately healing. "**Oh... so unwise...**" He commented with a shake of his head and grabbed the dead guard dangling from the spike protruding from his shoulder, and threw him towards his partner, his body exploding with curved blades made of his circulatory system, shredding the guard apart.

He turned his gaze towards the camera in the room, his eyes leaking blood, crimson tears falling down his cheeks. "**I'm coming for you, doc...**" he said and headed towards the door, his footsteps leaving blood that immediately spiked up.

When he passed Rusk and Briggs, small bits of condensed blood slithered away from him and creeped into their cages and invaded their bodies, drastically increasing their prowess over their powers, as they broke out, Briggs creating sort of bombs of blood that threw his door off, and Rucks created large weapons that he crashed his way out. They fell in step with Joshua, their journey of destruction leading the way.

When Joshua passed by Shade, he aimed his palm towards his cell door and tendrils off blood shot out, tearing his door off, setting him free. Another infecting bug slithered into Shade, giving him complete control over his mutations and quieting the rampant voices in his mind.

"**How do we find Spider?**" Briggs asked.

"**Through the system.**" Joshua answered and formed another bug between his fingers and threw it at a camera, the bug slithering through the system all the way to Jackie and infecting him as well, quieting his paranoia as he slowly escaped from his second prison, soon joining them in their journey.

"Sir! The experiments are retaliating! What should we do?!" a frantic assistant yelled at the head scientist.

The man merely smiled his infuriating grin. "Nothing. With a push of a button, our problems are over." he said as he pushed said button, bugs he implanted within the five subjects executing their commands, attacking their systems, knocking them out from the inside out, their enhancement bugs from Joshua immediately disappearing, the bugs destroying them. "This has been an interesting development." With the press of another button, he called on the guard manning the targeting system in Hemolag's testing room. "Guard, get rid of the 'little girl' targets. We can't have this situation arising _when we don't want it to happen_ again, now can we?" He asked.

"Yes sir." the guard answered, and the connection was cut.

The five unconscious test subjects were carted off the new holding cells, their memories wiped of the events that occurred.

"We must do this again some time. Perhaps we can procure those parasites Hemolag created that created the perfect control for our subjects." He plotted, chuckling to himself in his office.

End Ch. 5

So, what do you think? Like I said, anyone who mentions I ripped off Dead Man Wonderland, ignored! I didn't intentionally do it, I just thought the concept was cool. And as you can see, all the subjects have a tragic past. As a side note, Joshua's little bout of anger seemed to have created parasites that gave them perfect control over their powers. Will this come into play in the future? Even I don't know :D

Ja ne!


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: Hey everyone! :D Yeah, your favorite crazy shit is back; Shade/Alex! This chapter will introduce someone who is _kind of _crazy, but is here because they _think _he's crazy. Not much else to say.

As a side note, we will be referring to the characters by their pre-story names: Alex, Jackie, and Joshua, including anymore coming.

Disclaimer: I OWN THIS! :D Suck it!

"Hey"- human/intercom speech

_'Hey'_- human thought

**"Hey"**- computer/mutation form speech

Let's begin

Alex was 'escorted' to his testing chamber, in shackles, under threat of electrocution if he refused. Needless to say, he was going to his next test; he mused that it was a continuation of his water adaptation, as that was what they began last time. He might become another monster again, too. Maybe he could finally escape.

Approaching the door, his shackles undone and shoved into the room, the door closing behind him, he scowled at their rude behavior, but awaited the scientist to speak.

He momentarily realized his mind seems to be much clearer, and he didn't feel the fluctuation of intelligence the experiments had cursed him with. While happy he didn't have the IQ of a child, he knew he was nowhere _near _smart enough to outwit that damnable scientist who brought him here all those years ago. Doesn't mean he couldn't try…

The intercom in the corner of the room on the ceiling crackled to life. "Begin the test. We have a special guest here: General Ross." The infuriating condescending voice of the scientist spoke.

Alex looked at the surrounding walls as panels moved, revealing pipes that soon flooded the room with water. He sighed as he realized they were going to force him into the more destructive water adaptation form. As the water reached his waist, he already felt the biological changes taking hold within his body as the change of his skin becoming blue scales traveled up his legs. He resigned himself to his fate as a monster. For now.

(Elsewhere)

A man sat in a cell, silent, alone, but not alone. In his mind, a voice whispered to him to kill.

_Kill._

_Kill._

_Kill._

The voice became commonplace to the man ever since the event that caused him to be sent to this place… 220 years ago. He wasn't insane! He didn't do those things! He didn't kill those people! He didn't bring about Armageddon…

220 years ago, this man was born, but he was born in a ritual, a dark ceremony that sealed a demon within him. Was it the devil? Was it merely one of his servants? No one knew, but they knew it was evil. As soon as he could walk, the demon overtook him and slaughtered everyone in the village. As he grew, so did the demon in power, and its foothold in his mind. By the time he was thirty, he had already killed over a million people, all with his bare hands. During that time, he was creating something: a tower. In the middle of the ocean. A tower that would pierce the skies. He did this for his final plan to kill everyone. While extremely farfetched, when one has a demon sealed in them, anything might be possible. Taking a single sniper rifle and using his demonic influence to arrange for multiple oil tankers to arrive at every major continent, his plan was to plunge the world into Armageddon. Using forces only a demon of its caliber could attain, he saw far beyond what was humanly possibly, and fired one bullet at each oil tanker when they were connected to the mainland, causing a chain reaction of explosions and fire to sweep across the land, devastating the world as he killed millions. For his crimes, he was sentenced to death, but he would not die. Lethal injection, hangings, firing squad, electric chair, beheading, everything they could think of to kill a person, he survived.

He couldn't be human. Even now, the monster within him cackled with glee in remembrance of that time. Its grating laugh mocked him; taunted him with the memories. Even now, he could feel its cold hands clawing at his brain, trying to overtake him for another 'session', as they had come to call it. He could already hear the servos as they raised the solid adamantium walls outside his cell, already knowing his will was weak enough to turn. He despised them and their complacent disregard for his mental strength. He despised them and their inability to try to help him. He _despised _them with every fiber of his being; if he could control this demon, he would paint the walls with their blood and make rugs of their skin. He didn't deny that he was being more and more wicked in his behavior and mind. He didn't care; they deserve it. Deciding fighting back would achieve nothing, the man let his inner demon take him.

As the foul black influence stretched across the surface of his skin, obsidian lines etching demonic runes upon his body, burning through his clothes until he was left with the tattered remains of his pants now made into shorts. With each footstep, a tribal marking in the shape of his feet appeared on the floor then slowly corrupted the environment, increasing its dark reach as the marks on the man did the same for his skin.

A beast stalked the halls as this man turned demon wandered ominously. Blue scales, webbed, clawed hands and feet, navy blue mop of hair, wide pointed snout, large blank black eyes, three rows of teeth, gills twitching on the sides of its throat, a shark tail swaying behind it and a large fin grew out of its back, thin yet strong enough to cut steel. Curiously, around the beasts torso was a rope of electric-blue beads, like frozen water, yet they shimmered as if they held the liquid. It wore the tattered remains of Alex's pants, the lower halves gone because of the thick scaled legs that form, special 'frills' of scales on the calves for shredding. It had almost a blade-like extension on the forearms, ending in a sharp point at the elbow. It stopped, staring at the black figure before it.

In front of this shark-creature stood what was once a man, now turned gateway for a demon that brought about the End of Days. His skin was as black as the granite floors they walked upon, his eyes as white as the small specks within said flooring, the only thing standing out being his lavender shorts and the silver clasps on his wrists. As the dim lights slowly turned off from the farthest edges of the hall towards them, this dark figure was obscured more and more in the darkness until two white orbs floated in the dark.

The dark influence his trek here created from his footsteps reached the generator for the entire building, and then snuffed it out, thus causing the power to fail. Around them inside the facility, experiments and tortured individuals escaped.

Joshua fled with Briggs and Rusk, Jackie escaped, taking all his cameras with him, various other individuals ran from the place that brought them so much pain, including some individuals that would pique your interest, but that is a story for another day, and Alex… Alex was facing the demon container. His name was Anders, Michael Anders, but he preferred to be called Nighter. The demon made him do terrible things, things he would rather forget. And now… he was facing someone with a burden of his own, a burden of madness, a burden of a forgotten past, a burden of revenge… And he might kill him.

"**Run." **He said, and he exploded with darkness, every entrance and exit of the facility burst open with blackness, a battered and heavily injured Alex cast out, now human again. He was heavily burned, and even missing some skin and muscles in some areas on his body. He coughed blood and winced, gritting his teeth as his advanced regeneration began its work, as he already felt the tingling sensation around his wounds and his body overall, due to the burns. As he stood up, he looked at the night sky, and cried. Not in anguish, not in pain, but in pure happiness; he was _free! _Free from that hell! Free from the scientist who started it all! Free from so much pain…

He was going to get as far away from this place as he could, and never look back. As he limped across the night desert, he didn't see the figure stepping out of the darkness of the building. Nighter walked again.

**(With Joshua, Briggs, and Rucks)**

"Holy shit, we're free!" Joshua whooped as he ran through the desert, happier than he had ever been.

"Fuck yes!" Rucks agreed as he ran alongside Josh, finally free of the hellhole.

Briggs merely grunted in agreement, running on all fours like an animal, as it proved much faster than running with just his legs, as he was keeping up just fine with his comrades, not having to worry about getting sand on his body, thanks to the body-suit.

"Where do we go? What do we do?" Josh asked after a while. "While the shit Michael did killed a lot of people, there's still civilization and plenty of people, but I think they're confined to just the America's and a small faction in the other countries. I heard there were some environments that completely changed and are uninhabitable, due to their extremes."

"I think we're better off going to one of the small, possibly more understanding countries. The U.S.A. is full of hypocrites who would see us as monsters, and some of the major countries would be too wary of us to live out our lives. How's Italy sound to you guys?" Rucks asked, already musing on their mode of transportation.

Again, Briggs grunted. He seemed to be concentrating hard on something, as he was silent, his comrades glad to be free of his cynical comments for at least a while.

"Ah, Italia! Come vorrei che il mio paese di origine! (Ah, Italy! How I long for my home country!)" Josh cried, showing his heritage from the boot-shaped country.

"…I have no idea what you just said, but ditto!" Rucks cried back.

Briggs' eyebrow would be twitching if he had one.

"But how are we going to get there?" Josh asked.

"I have an idea; we might need to sneak on a boat. Or, if we can bull shit our way through, we can just buy a few tickets there." Rucks explained.

"How? _I _might be able to get a ticket, but Briggs is in a full body suit and you don't have skin on your arms; that's going to raise a few eyebrows."

"Hmm, you might have a point. Can you sneak in somewhere and steal me some bandages? As for Briggs… I have no idea." Rucks offered.

"Bring me a coat." Briggs said plainly in his croaking voice.

Joshua nodded and, once they made it to a city, told them to wait in a nearby alley and left to bring the supplies.

**(One hour later)**

Josh came back with a long brown coat hanging off his arm and a large roll of gauze in his hand, as well as some plane tickets in his pockets. "I jumped some guy and used his money for the coat and tickets. I had to steal this stuff from a clinic. Here." He explained, offering the coat and gauze to his comrades.

Nodding, Rucks and Briggs took the offered supplies and went to work. Rucks managed to wrap the gauze around his skinned arms, turning the stark-white bandages red with his fresh blood. Briggs put on the jacket and that's about all he did.

Josh and Rucks both raised an eyebrow at him. "That's all you're going to do?" Josh voiced their question.

"I've been watching while we waited. This generation is _weird_. I've seen a bunch of kids dressed in different colors of the suit I'm wearing, so I'll be fine." Briggs explained dryly.

Josh and Rucks blinked owlishly at him. "This generation is _weird_…" They said together.

"Wait, if it's okay to wear that, then why'd you ask for a coat? You have other clothes on so you don't need it." Josh asked.

"It's cold." Briggs said simply.

Josh and Rucks deadpanned at him but decided to leave it at that and Josh led the trio to the airport.

**(With Jackie)**

Jackie was running through the desert night as if the devil himself was on his heels, using the tentacles of his backpack to go faster than he would on his own feet. As he ran away from his prison within a prison, he mused on what he should do with all these cameras, and just what to do with his life now that he was free.

He wondered if he could make a new home for himself, with his security to protect him in case the main scientist somehow survived that flood of darkness and the explosion afterwards.

He ran towards the nearest town and looked for a relatively nice abandoned building and set up shop there. He found his new home and he would make sure no one would find him here.

**(With Michael)**

"**YoU cAn'T hIdE wHaT yOu ArE mIcHaEl…" **An all-too-familiar voice whispered inside Michael's head.

Michael grit his teeth and grasped his head. "Shut up! I'm not a monster! You're the monster! I just want to live a normal life! If I wasn't born to that bastard tribe, I might've had a normal life! But I wasn't, and I'm willing to live with my past, but you destroy my chances of trying to be normal!" He yelled back at the darkness inside him.

"**NoRmAl, NoRmAl, NoRmAl, Is ThAt AlL yOu EvEr TaLk AbOuT?" **His demon asked, mocking him to no end.

Michael growled like the demon he held and roared to the sky. "SHUT UP!" In an explosion of darkness, the sand around him was turned into what could only be described as black glass. It was hard and cold, yet there were some areas where it lifted off and wisped in the air like flames around him. The same markings from before appeared around his eyes, hands, and feet, but only went that far, then slowly receded.

As the desert sun began to rise on the horizon, the demon within him roared at the light and was silenced, but a wing of its form burst from his back, shielding him, but more importantly _it_, from the sunlight, saving him from the harsh rays as he began his trek towards the nearest sign of civilization.

**(With trio of new **(At least to you guys) **experiments)**

"I'm telling you, Flock, I sssssaw a ccccity nearby." A man hissed to his comrade in freedom.

"And _I'm _telling _you_, Scaler, fuck a city! I just want to go in a forest and make my nest of birds in peace! And my name's Jacob, not Flock, _Zachary_." Jacob glared at the snake-like Zach. The third of their group was quiet the entire time, his snow-white hair covering his right red eye, his left green watching them both calmly. While this description of his head alone would make one think it was Alex, it was not. In fact, this was his so called 'big brother', though he was more of a predecessor in terms of an experiment. This man alone held the odd blades Alex could sprout from his body, but he could not adapt to the environments like his successor. He was also Alex's complete opposite; he had kept his sanity during his time in the facility, he was built, strong, tough. His name was Volf Ludving; they took him from Bavaria, Germany, when he was two. He was twenty-three now.

Zach had the decency to look sheepish, well, as sheepish as a man with no facial muscles can look. Blasted snake DNA. "Whatever. All I'm ssssaying is that you go your way, and I go mine. We never sssssee each other again; agreed?" He offered his clawed hand, showing the green scales, light-green underbelly of his palm and forearm, and black nails for claws.

"Agreed. Good luck, you bastard. What about you, Volf?" Jacob shook his hand and asked their third part member, only to find he was already on his way into the city. Shrugging his shoulders, they parted ways from Jaco, Jacob sinking into the forest, and Zachary continuing his trek towards civilization.

Thankfully, Zachary managed to steal a hoodie from the facility before he left, so he wouldn't alarm any normal humans with his appearance. Volf didn't need such disguises, as he was the least physical deformed of anyone, excluding people like Joshua, Alex, and Michael. They walked amongst the humans, none of them even turning a head to look at them curiously. Odd. They were walking down a slanted sidewalk from a hill when they heard a shout of 'Look out!'

Whipping around faster than some expected, Volf thrust his arms out, catching the runaway rolling couch in his hands.

"Whoa! How'd you do that?" Someone asked.

"Uh…" Zach interjected, answering for Volf. "He drinks a lot of milk?" He offered.

The people seemed to believe it. Is this generation that stupid? "What's up with your face?" Someone else asked.

Cursing to himself, Zachary answered. "Uh, I'm on my way to a costume party." He offered. Again, they believed him. He fought the urge to sigh at their sheer stupidity. Waiting for the movers who let the couch roll away to take the piece of furniture, they went on their way about the city, marveling at the sights they were deprived of inside the facility. Well, Zach did, Volf just eyed them curiously.

Zach's yellow, slitted eyes took in everything as he smiled, somewhat menacingly given his face, at the prospect of living in this city.

**(With Jacob)**

Jacob had sauntered into the forest, looking for either an abandoned shed or a large tree. Thankfully, he found what appeared to be an abandoned lighthouse… in the middle of a forest.

Shrugging that weirdness off, _'Soil erosion or some shit'_, he went inside, finding it immediately to his liking. Seeing as no one was around, he reached behind himself and undid a pair of straps on the back of his shirt, letting his obsidian crow wings burst from his shirt, the grey feathers at the edges shining in the moonlight. "Ah, much better." He muttered to himself. He popped a few joints and rolled his neck and shoulders as a pair of robins landed on his shoulders. "Hey there. Care to give me the lay of the land?" He asked them, and they seemed to understand him. Within a few tweets, he had understood he was in the state of California, near the border to Nevada, hence the desert trek here. He offered them a place in his new home, as well as for any other of their avian friends and neighbors. Watching them fly off to 'spread the word', Jacob set about refurbishing the lighthouse for his tastes.

**(With Alex)**

The white haired teen was already within city limits, walking amongst the people, cradling his arms in paranoia and fear; what was this place? Who were these people? What are these giant… _things _people kept going in and coming out of?

All kinds of questions buzzed in his head as he walked through the city, slowly grabbing his head and gritting his teeth in pain as everything was getting to him.

**(With Michael)**

Michael was taking his time walking through the desert out of Nevada; he had a lot of thinking to do. Where would he go? What would he do? Could he lead a normal life now that he was free of the facility? Would this damnable monster within him let him be? He highly doubted it, but one could hope. Due to his own pace, the sun was already setting in the desert, the wing of his demon receding into his body as he could already feel it fighting him for control in the night, in the darkness. Seeing no use in fighting it, he gave control over, falling unconscious as his body remained standing, under the control of his demon. He was tired… so, so tired… He just wanted to sleep… for a little bit.

Back in the facility, as the smoke settled, and the rubble laid in its piles, the structure of the building finally falling down on itself, a pile shifted slightly. A muffled cough sounded as a gloved hand popped out, reaching around for a set of glasses. As the head the glasses belonged to rose, the top scientist cough at the dust around him.

End Ch. 6

So, whaddya think? Everyone escaped, the scientist is still alive, some experiments have managed to, or are planning to, reintegrate into society, and our main guy Alex is facing the trials of reality. Not much else to say.

Ja ne!


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Hey guys! :D Yeah, bet you didn't expect me to get back to this. Well, I've had a few moments of inspiration for this story, so I decided: fuck it! As a sidenote, in case you haven't noticed, this is a very OC-heavy story; and it'll only get worse! :D So if you don't like a lot of OCs... why the fuck are you reading this in the first place? Anyway, this chapter is going to take a radical turn in the beginning in terms of scope and setting. You've been warned.

Disclaimer: I OWN THIS! :D Suck it!

"Hey"- human/intercom speech

_'Hey'_- human thought

**"Hey"**- computer/mutation form speech

Let's begin

"Forma prae Dominus, quaeso ut me, gratias tibi hodie, gratias tibi, ut exiguum in alium diem esse. Gratias ago tibi Domine informem." (Lord of the un-form, I pray to you to give me your graces for this day, as I thank you for another day in my meager existence. Thank you, Lord Formless.) a monotone voice said, belonging to a heavily-tanned man, whose skin was almost completely hidden under the _copious _amounts of tattoo's all over his body. Each tattoo was different and seemed to have nothing to do with any other tattoo. The only thing that gave them any sense of belonging together was a black tribal symbol somewhere on their images, the same symbol worn around the man's necklace. He was lying on his back, in the same symbol carved into the ground, his mop of spiky brown hair slick with what appeared to be blood, or ink, or some odd combination. He wore a light brown wife-beater, long khakis, brown boots, and had a tattered cloak hanging off his shoulders. He stood up from the 'praying circle' and brushed a hand through his hair, slicking it back, adding in streaks of red and black from the blood and ink. "Lord Formless, who do you command me to sacrifice today?" He 'spoke' to his tattoos. He grit his teeth as the tattoo's on his hand moved on his skin; a moment's pain to serve his god. In the palm of his hand showed the face of his next sacrifice.

**(With Nighter)**

Michael sighed to himself as the black markings receded from his skin, his demon relinquishing control for now. He found himself in what appeared to be the ghetto of the city nearest the facility he escaped, bodies, blood, and destroyed cop cars strewning the streets. He sighed again, this time in frustration, as it seemed the monster within him went on a rampage. The sinister chuckling in his mind confirmed his suspicions, and again he damned this _thing_. He got up from the dirty ground of the alley he found himself in and began walking out, wiping anything off of him, dirt, blood, flesh chunks. He even found a wayward finger in his hair-braids; nasty. As he walked through the devastated ghetto, he heard garbled snarls behind him. Turning around, he found rabid wolves growling at him, except their limbs were replaced with machinery and some parts of their body covered in plating and military-grade weapons. "What type of fuckery is this shit?!" He yelled, pointing at the modified animals.

**"We were made to kill freaks like you." **The alpha 'spoke,' the voice coming from a speaker installed in its throat.

Nighter threw his arms in the air. "And they talk!" He yelled exasperatingly. "Fine, what do you freaks want? And who sent you?" He asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a gesture that just screamed 'I can't believe this...'

**"Oh, we think you're well acquainted with our creators." **The alpha answered, a panel on its back sliding open as a missile launcher came out, the insignia of the facility on the front panel that flipped open, shooting the twenty-or-so missiles at Nighter, its comrades contributing their own explosives.

"Oh come on!" He yelled disbelievingly as he attempted to dodge the projectiles, only for the shockwaves to send him tumbling around like a ragdoll. While he would give his demon control to save him, he was unable to due to the daylight, so he would have to take over. Though he was reluctant to admit it, his control over these powers was mediocre compared to the demon, but he would have to make due. He aimed his tumbling into the shadow of a nearby building somehow still standing from the onslaught of explosions and gathered any darkness he could. As the dark influence spread up his fingers in branching lines, his eyes glowed faintly in the dark, and he lunged forward, his blackened fingers extending into claws, spikes growing out of the darkness encroaching up his arms. He slashed and cleaved, butchering the wolf-bots into ribbons, the spikes up his arms acting like a large serrated weapon. When the things finally stopped coming out of nowhere, he had destroyed them all, the darkness of his arms having reached up to his shoulders, as the inky blackness seemed to absorb some unused missile launchers for some reason. He panted heavily as he willed the darkness to disappear, and jumped slightly when a screen popped up on one of the corpses of the wolves.

"If this video is playing, then project WENDIGO has succeeded its first run. Subject named Michael Anders, you have been warned; return to the nearest facility for detainment, or more will be sent after you. These are Phase 1 Stalkers, specifically designed to hunt you down and gather data. They were not designed to kill you, as that would be too easy. With each unit you destroy, we have more and more data on you for your inevitable capture. Turn yourself in and you won't be harmed; continue this AWOL behavior, and you will be hunted down like a wild animal." A recorded message said, showing the face of another scientist from the same facility he had escaped from.

A clawed foot crushed the screen; with the time that passed from the fight with the Stalkers, the sun had set, and the demon had taken hold during the transmission. The demon stalked the streets, heading towards the next source of life it could sense with its dark powers.

**(With Flock)**

Jacob didn't sleep much, so he was still awake at night, tending to his birds, dressed in his new clothing he had said avian friends steal for him from the big city.

He managed to tie his ebony hair back, a few strands hanging in his face, reaching to just under his nose, drawing attention to the small claw marks at the corner of his mouth from some rowdy birds that hadn't gotten used to him yet. On his hair was a hat his birds got for him; it could only be described as a brown pirate hat with gold trim, the frontmost point hanging in his face from the weight of the gold ring. It seemed slightly beaten, and reinforced with leather, like much else of his clothing, to toughen through the talons of his feathery friends. His facility-given lavender shirt lay in the fireplace, nothing but ashes, as he wanted to destroy all ties to that hellhole, now replaced with a black T-shirt with an image of a raven in a thin, white outline grasping a bright red gem. Over the shirt was what he would admit as the oddest piece of clothing he had, also the most taxing to finish; quite a bit of leather was used. A brown,high-collared overcoat that reached to his ankles with a pale-yellow interior, straps that would keep it together hanging loosely down the sides, a leather rim sewn onto the bottom, weighing it down so it wouldn't flutter in the breeze. It, of course, had two holes in the back for his wings, as well as leather pieces strapped from under his arms so his flying friends could rest on his shoulders, long sleeves tucked under the thick hide he wore around his forearms used specifically by bird-caretakers to let the creatures perch on their arms, fingerless gloves showing a few scratches, existing for the same reasons as the ones on the side of his mouth. He wore regular light-blue jeans and black boots he found lying around; probably left by the previous owners of the lighthouse. Well, its more of a tower than a lighthouse, through it does have a spotlight in the top like the sea-side beacons.

As he tended to soem birds that got some dirt in their feathers, he hummed to himself. "I count the ways I see these flightful creatures, free of the ground and all imprisonment. Faith, hope perched in the soul with feathers, Freedom, why the caged bird sings, Nature, let birds, let leaves, let passion, let joy, Exile, born in the sky, never touching the ground, to die in the sky, isolated, Muse, in their image, beautiful things are born, Music, their chirping voices bring happiness to all listeners, Ecstasy, high in the sky, they sing in joy, that they may never know gravity, Wisdom, in the sky, things seen so close and vague are seen afar and detailed, Patience, one at a time, twigs and leaves and clumps, until a nest is made, Poet, the graceful simplicity of their lives can be captured in word and spread to be loved, Omen, dark ones bring the message of death and sorrow, but light ones bring joy and happiness, and Pest, chickens, chickens everywhere! On my stomach, in my hair, on my pillow, on my head, in their feathers, around my bed! But the thirteenth sight... Family. Scorned by my own, I seek refuge in these simple creatures, and they give me closure." As he finished his little poem, many Robins and Finches perched themselves on his shoulders, the Blue Jay he was tending to nuzzling his gloved hand softly. He smiled down at the creature.

**(With Scaler and Volf)**

Zachary Wyatt was a curious man. His origins were... odd. He and his parents had a snake hatchery, the reptile loving them like their own family. Except the Black Mamba's. The longest venomous snake's in the world, and the fastest snakes period, _Dendroaspis polylepis _was exceedingly aggressive, especially to the Wyatt's, for some reason. Thankfully, due to their lifestyles, the three Wyatt's developed strong immunities to the venom of the Black Mamba.

Except for the big one.

**(Flashback)**

Black as night, abnormally long even for the species, a whopping twenty feet, eyes blazing green, the snake they jokingly named 'Big Daddy' was horribly aggressive, short-tempered, and quick to bite anything that moved; even other Black Mamba's. Thankfully, it kept to the back of the tank, lounging on the large fallen tree, just watching everything in its domain. The Wyatt's didn't know if the thing even slept, and they didn't dare try to found out; being in the tank with those creatures, alone, at night, was a death wish. They may have built immunities to the venom, but enough dosages, and _bites, _will still kill them. It was a journey just to feed the damn things! But they still loved them, like all the other snakes.

Until one faithful day. Joseph and Christine Wyatt, Zach's parents, were tending to the Black Mamba's, taking care to steer clear of Big Daddy, as he seemed exceedingly irritable today. They had already been bitten by a few of the smaller Mamba's, but their immunities saved them from the venom. They still went to the trouble of purging the poison from their systems; it can never hurt to be too careful. When the time came to feed Big Daddy, the trio went in together, so they'd have a better chance of getting it done faster. With more than one person to focus on, Big Daddy could be confused while they got his large batch of rats into range, yet out of the other Mamba's ranges. When they got the cage down on the ground and opened it, letting the plump rodents scurry free - to their dooms - they took the cage and quickly walked away, so as not to catch his attention with too-quick movement. Then suddenly, Big Daddy shot forward after finishing his rats, grabbing Joseph's head in its jaw, sinking its fangs into his brain, killing him instantly, causing Christine to cry in fear and step away from her dead husband with her son, knowing he was already dead. But before they could escape, a smaller Black Mamba bit her ankle, causing her to fall, right onto Big Daddy's waiting fangs. She was dead once they pierced her heart.

Zachary screamed and cried in horror; he was only eight. He tried to run away, only for Big Daddy to grab his tiny frame in a coil, pulling him back to join his parents in the afterlife. Seizing the boy by his side in its fangs, the poison spread through his veins, increasing his pain from the crushing force of the reptile just holding him in place.

Apparently, Big Daddy was some demon-spawn of a Black Mamba and a Constrictor; surely nature spat in his face at this impossibility. Oddly enough, the venom didn't kill him. It began changing him. As he writhed in its grasp, he managed to free his arm and jam his elbow in Big Daddy's face, knocking his head away and bit down on the coils keeping him captive, the pain causing the snake to let him go, as he ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, right out of the tank, thankfully slamming the door behind him. He ran inside their house and called for 911, hopeful that his parents could be saved, and someone could help him understand why he wasn't sick like them. He was eight; what do you expect?

Ten minutes later, an ambulance came and checked over his parents, unfortunately informing him they were dead. He was so distraught, he didn't even acknowledge the side-note that he should be dead as well, what with the poison running through his veins, but _something _was keeping him alive, adapting to the venom. Even though these blasted snakes killed his parents, he still screamed and tried to stop the men from torching the Black Mamba tank, but to no avail. He didn't even notice the dozen-or-so other snakes - that actually liked him and his parents - slithering up behind him and some of the smaller ones slithering onto his shoulders to console him. He smiled sadly and pet the small Garden Snake on the head. "At least I still have you guys..." He reminded himself.

Fate spits in his face.

As soon as he finished those words, the area where Big Daddy bit him started bubbling and his body pulsated with scale patterns, the snake's drawn into his flesh as he began absorbing them. Throughout the whole process, he screamed and cried, not wanting the only friends he had leave him, even if they were still part of him. His mind was a storm of pain-filled hisses as the snakes consciouses were wiped away and brought into his, changing him.

When everything stopped, he passed out from the pain. When his body hit the ground, mysterious soldiers in gear appeared from any hiding spots they could possibly be behind, such as behind and in the house, and behind the ambulance. With a single shot to each head, they killed the paramedics and through their bodies, including Joseph's and Christine's, into the fire of the Black Mamba tank, and formed a circle around the boy. Two soldiers parted, letting in the head scientist, who examined the boy, noticing his body was pulsing to the slow beat of his heart, the scaling of his skin spreading from the bite area on his left rib. "Bring him." He ordered simply.

A soldier nodded and picked the boy up and carried him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

From then on, his life was full of experiments to see what made him survive the bite from Big Daddy, since they didn't try to treat him for the venom. Apparently he, and his parents, had a special gene in their DNA that would activate when introduced to snake DNA. When the injection wasn't fatal. They would gain minimal qualities of the reptiles -heat vision, surface friction, heightened senses - nothing too spectacular. Unless they were experimented on by the sick fucks in the facility. As was the case, he evolved - or degenerated, depending on your point of view - into a snake-human hybrid. Unlocking the potential of the numerous snakes he absorbed on that day, he had the best qualities of each species; the monstrous strength of a Constrictor, multiplied with experimentation and his own size, the lightning speed and reflexes of a King Cobra, the deadly venom of the damnable Black Mamba, the ability to make the rattling sound of a Rattlesnake, which he can throw like one can throw their voice, as well as some supernatural abilities derived from snakes, such as stretching his limbs to the monstrous lengths of Anaconda's, bristling his scales - which completely replaced his skin after a few experiments - into a sort of lion's mane like some intimidating species of snake or as ridged armor, and growing a hood like a Cobra.

After all the years of experimentation, he had changed. He was pessimistic, cynical, and short-tempered, but extremely curious of the outside world. Due to the scaling process, he had lost all body hair, distinguishable ears and nose, and any traces of facial muscles, increased in musclemass exponentially, his hands had evolved into ebony claws, and his eyes changed color from their original chocolate-brown to a venomous yellow, with a slit pupil.

**(Flashback end)**

"What do you feel like doing, Volf?" Zachary asked his compatriot. All he got was a grunt in response. "You don't talk much, do you?" He asked, only to get another grunt. "Well, _fine_. See if _you _get the top bunk." He complained, as it was time to turn in for the night, and they found an abandoned house and the only form of bedding was a bunk bed for some reason, all other bedding shredded by what seemed like claws, parts of the house blown out by what seemed to be small explosives, and various bloodstains around the house; something happened here and it didn't end pretty.

**(Elsewhere)**

Ticking. Empty whiteness. A single figure amongst the clocks.

"They were not meant to escape yet. Find them and send them back." An authoritative voice ordered as several figures appeared in what appeared to be flashes of several different era-themed clocks.

The voice belonged to Alonix Fateur, the angel of Time, who allowed his ancestors and descendants to occupy a single space and time for this task. HIs grey hair was short on top, a few bangs hanging in front of his blue eyes that held tic marks reminiscent of the marks on a clock at the edges of his eyes, short on the sides, and long in the back, hanging to between his shoulder blades, drawing attention to the two massive grey wings that sprouted from his back. The wings were like a huge set of arms, opened wide enough for all to be encompassed in their size, many clocks of different era's and times clinging to them by pure nothing. He wore a simple black cloak that reached to his ankles and black boots.

From an ornate old-English clock on a tower came a well-dressed man. A black tophat with a small watch tucked into the white band around it, sitting atop his grey well-kept hair sweeping back under the hat, only a single strand hanging in front of his silver eyes, black marks at the edges of his eyes resembling the marks on a clock, a monocle over his right eye. He had oddly grey facial hair, a neatly trimmed goatee around his frowning mouth. He wore a grey dress-shirt with black pinstripes over a white undershirt and black tie, a small clock acting as the tieclip, white cuffs and gloves with clock designs on the tops of his hands, his right grasping an ornate staff with an electric blue orb with various clock faces on its surface, all different times and designs, a gold band on half the wooden staff he held like a cane, a silver cap at the tip. Black dresspants with a gold chain alluding to a pocketwatch in his right pocket, leading to freshly shined dress shoes. The most prominent feature about him, besides the overall clock obsession, was the apparatus resting on his back. A large golden clock with smaller clocks around the circumference, sections of it folding out and showing to be a long mechanical arm, a clock on either side of the joints down the limb, ending in a claw. This limb could separate into smaller arms before they fold out, for more aid in his life, both in day-to-day errands, and this mission he was to be sent on.

This was Sir Alan Fateaux, a southern Louisiana man who emigrated to England and opened a watch shop, which soon evolved into a factory, leading to his leisurely lifestyle. "Why don't you do it yourself, mon ami?" Alan spoke with his Cajun accent giving an exotic air.

"Ek stem saam, waarom nie gaan jouself? Hoekom stuur vir ons?" A voice added its own two cents, accompanied with the tapping of a staff, the rattle of bones along with it.

"Speak plainly, shaman." A pensive voice snapped, distorted slightly with a voice synthesizer.

"I said; 'I agree; why not go yourself? Why send us?'" The 'shaman' translated, his accent giving away his African descent, carry his annoyance at the derogatory moniker of a shaman. He looked down at his state of dress to see why he would be called such.

His dark skin stuck out greatly against the white space they currently occupied. It was covered slightly by the paint he wore; two white strips across both cheeks on his face, his eyes similar to Alan's, only they were a chocolate brown, his hair kept in braids across his head, but in enough quantity to show no scalp. He wore a set of straw rings down his neck, a necklace of bird skulls with tiny sundials in black paint on their foreheads around his neck. He had a white stripe up his abdomen, imitating a spine, others circumventing his ribs to meet up a similar stripe up his spine, a sundial in white paint over his heart. Similar sundials in paint adorned his shoulders, straw strips around his biceps where they met his shoulders and elbows. He wore bracelets of several colored beads that belonged to his mother before American men came and slaughtered his tribe. In his right hand he grasped a staff with several necklaces of small animal skulls down it, a human skull of the same man that murdered his mother on the top, a stone sundial jammed into the forehead, brilliantly colored feathers adorned the straw strips just under it. Oddly enough, he wore American pants, though torn at the knees; he took these from the same man whose skull adorned his staff. He had more more strips down his shins, ending with his bare feet and straw straps around his ankles. On his back was a dreamcatcher modified to look like a clock.

This was Neimat Labdouni, a survivor of one of the many tribe slaughters when white men appeared on the shores of Africa, specifically in southern Nigeria.

"You know as well as I do that I cannot interfere with the acts of man, but you, as my ancestors and descendants, can, and I ask you to do this. The stream of time must be fixed. And Kizer, speak with care; just because you didn't opt for a linguistics feature in that over-mechanized suit doesn't allow you to be rude." He reassured Neimat, then turned on the alternate version of his son, Kizer Fateur. This version wasn't the son that grew to love him as he did his son, this was a version that ran away from home and denounced his family name and became a common, sometimes not-so-common, thief - a 'vigilante,' he would correct, but the former was more appropriate for how he lived.

"Whatever you say, _father_." Kizer 'apologized' condescendingly. He smirked under his helmet when his father, Alonx Fateur, glared at him, knowing he didn't really care either way. Kizer was essentially an enigma to anyone who saw him; all they would see was his disturbing helmet and his body hidden under a black cloak. Said helmet was form-fitting to his head, black and matte, so as to be unseen even in the night. An abstract skull made up the face of the helmet, a majority of it replaced with a large cloak with a yellow rim, a sharp X across it, crossing over the right eye and reaching the front edge of the helmet, a white plate shaped like the upper jaw of some demon skull, sharp 'teeth' reaching to the bottom of his neck, 'hair' sticking out the back of the helmet, a black flame with red streaks that reached to his waist. The rest of his body was hidden under a black cloak.

All eyes turned to the silent one to the side, who merely stared off into the empty space. "Is there something you would like to share with us, Kenshi?" The main man said.

Kenshi Takamura was a samurai from the Huang Dynasty; like any other samurai, he sought honor in all opponents, so he rarely used his temporal powers he shared with all the men present. His cobalt eyes, adorned with the tic marks of hours like the others, merely stared forward into nothingness, the rest of his face hidden by his helmet of an Oni and the bandages around his mouth, for he had suffered an injury from his first fight, a pair of slashes to the corners of his mouth, forever leaving scars. He was adorned in burnt red armor that clung to his body, an o-katana on his right hip, _eleven _tanto's on his back, arranged in the hands of a clock, but one was embedded in his left rib. Despite being a samurai, Kenshi was an outcast of the order, because of his condition: Split Personality Disorder. Most of the time, he was just Kenshi Takamura, but once in a blue moon, more often during a daunting fight, he would snap, and 'Onigumo' would surface. Kenshi's family line was cursed every tenth generation by some sort of spirit his ancestors had angered, and he just so happened to be 'lucky' number ten; as such, Onigumo came to be. Most of his family who suffered this condition were just clerks or storeowners, especially those who migrated to the America's, but he wanted to follow his father's role as a samurai for the Daimyo. Unfortunately, Onigumo reared his ugly head, and that dream was all but shot down; but Kenshi was adamant. He fought the waves of madness, he trained with a sword, he followed the code of the samurai, and he soon became an official guard to the Daimyo, his secret buried deep within him.

Until that day; he would never forget.

**(Flashback)**

Kenshi was an insomniac; fighting off the alter ego of a serial killer demon will keep one up at night. But this night, his eyelids were so heavy, and sweet bliss was so tempting, but so foreboding. When his will finally dwindled, he slept right at his post; only for his _yellow _eyes to snap open, snickering quietly as he reached for the mouthpiece of his helmet and undid the bandages around his mouth, showing the scars that seemed to widen his insane grin, as he began to chuckle lowly, drawing the attention of his childhood friend, Nobuna.

"Kenshi, nani ga machigatte iru? (Kenshi, what is wrong?)" Nobuna asked, his gruff voice showing concern for his friend; he worried about his condition of missing sleep and working longer hours than everyone else, and this sudden behavior was unnerving.

'Kenshi' merely waltzed up to him and stared him in the eyes, taking great joy in seeing them widen in realization at the change in color. "Who's Kenshi?" He asked, the sentence foreign to 'his' friend due to language differences, as he seized one of the many tanto's on his back and swung widely, separating his head from his body. He began laughing louder as the blood rained on him, as he ran inside and began slaughtering everyone, the other guards, the Daimyo, even the princess he had feelings for; all dead, at his hand.

When the next day came, Kenshi awoke to the stench of blood and death, and snapped open his eyes to find everyone dead. Nobuna, the Daimyo, his friends, even the princess. Incredibly distraught by the horror he had committed, he grabbed the tanto jammed in the Daimyo's neck, took it out, and hovered it over his left rib, following the final rule of samurai.

_If you are captured by the enemy, or have committed an unforgivable dishonor, seppuku is the only end._

He jammed the blade into his rib, and proceeded to rip it across his stomach, only for it to just stay there no matter how hard he pulled. Looking at his reflection in the large puddle of blood, he saw his left eye was that infuriating yellow he was familiar with.

**"Oh, no you don't. You die, I die. No killing yourself, meat puppet." **Onigumo spoke through his lips.

Seeing even death was no escape from this disaster, Kenshi fled China, fled Asia, fled from his past, hoping to forget this sin.

**(Flashback end)**

Kenshi remained silent against their leaders question, unmoving.

"Kenshi was always the quiet type." A final voice said, all eyes turning to it. This was the voice of the farthest descendant Alonix could find, as apparently, by 3092, humans had evolved to a higher state of being, being made entirely of energy, temporal in this individuals case. The only noticeable features of this person, simply named Wayne, was the light blue energy shaped like an average human male, two blue orbs in the head to signify eyes, and a clock design in the torso, twelve tic marks and a pair of lines forever rotating around from the center.

"Indeed, Wayne. Now if everyone is done, please be on your way." Alonix ordered, watching as they all disappeared in their own special way, Kenshi rooted to his spot. He floated over to the samurai, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Kenshi, it's not your fault. With what I've managed to do, that tanto embedded in you is what keeps in Onigumo. As long as you don't remove, that can never happen again." He reassured him.

Kenshi finally spoke. "...I still see her face in my dreams. She was so happy... Even the Daimyo blessed us with his consent. Why was I cursed with this demon?" He asked, disappearing in silence.

End Ch. 8

Whaddya think? Developing some characters we saw in the last chapter, and bringing in a secondary antagonist group. And the character in the beginning will get the spotlight next time. Who could his target be for his formless god? Also, I'm told that my latest drawing of Flock makes him look like a pirate. He's not a pirate! D:

Ja ne!


End file.
